A monk with a hard on in a lavender robeThat scratches his thighs for the height that he strodeAs he follows a path filled with harried desireAnd mimics his footsteps and sets his prayers on fireGlad to have chosen that which left no choiceTo sing without loving in a solitary voiceTo observe with passion each careful denialThe protrusions which give my life meaning for a while

Sometimes I see you eating berries and weedsYou're brushing your teeth with licorice seedsStanding too close, holding your clothesSmiling at God, the meaning of life growsNo, no I'll never tell and I'll never knowWhat candles you light after the showAnd I'll never tell and I'll never askThe meaning of life after mass